#I wasn’t having a rlly good day :’)

[stardustdiiving]

Everytime I tell people who know me pretty well I LOVED Pearl from Steven Universe as a child it’s so humiliating bc they’re always like oh of COURSE you did . I bet you loved her thing with rose quartz didn’t you and I have to admit Rosepearl was an integral part me building an understanding of queerness and they’re like that makes SO much sense. I cannot keep doing this

[exopelagic]

okay I severely misjudged spaghetti guy he’s actually just really cool

[sunnibits]

hey, if you have arfid/any ed/any food sensitivity issues in general, do me a favor and reblog this and tell me these in the tags!: (as many or as little as you’d like - this is just for fun :))

- your current favorite safe food

- your favorite food in general

- one food that you can always manage to eat no matter what (if you have one!)

- one food that isn’t currently safe, but that you WANT to like or think you would like if you tried it

- the most recent new food that you have tried, and did you like it? (I’m so so proud of you either way!)

[alaskan-wallflower]

can someone explain why the people i’m volunteering with thought it was a good idea to give the one blind person a box cutter to make crafts for the kids in working with

[skhardwarevers1]

is everything progressively getting worse or am I just tired and need to go to sleep

[legofbicuriosity]

i hate you expectation of romance i hate you seeing romantic subtext in the most mundane interactions i hate you amatonormativity i hate y

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. thinking about true form!sukuna having a huge size kink (+ corruption kink).

word count. 2.6k

note. super self-indulgent. cant rlly blame me for creating this. also do you see those big ass hands in the header i used? yeah.. says enough (this sucks ass)

tags. dom heian era!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut. porn with plot. size kink / size difference (reader gets referred to as ‘short’ & ‘small’). p in v -> unprotected. degradation. corruption kink (reader gets referred to as ‘naive’, 'shy' & innocent’-looking). tummy bulging. loss of virginity mention. hymen breaking mention. cervix fucking, ouch. lots of teasing. tiny bit of choking. tiny mention of blood tasting ? idk. hint at anal / double penetration. dirty talk. sukuna has two of everything btw mehehe. reader get called ‘woman, brat, slut, little'.

sukuna is intrigued by you. he’s always been, since the moment he’s laid his eyes upon you. your loyalty and devotion to him are two aspects that the king of curses likes most about you. .

. . after your innocence.

it nearly irked him. every time he saw you hanging around the estate without a single care in the world. sukuna would attempt to intimidate you with serious threats. he’d loom over your short stature and look down at you with a malicious glint in his eyes. though, none of it seemed to work.

you'd only bow your head at him and apologise if you’ve caused him any possible inconveniences. it annoyed the sorcerer. you weren’t trembling in fear like all the others would — it was like there was nothing going on in that head of yours. especially when you smile at him. which no one actually dares to do.

sukuna could crush you. with no effort. one big hand would be enough to pick your entire body up, lift you in the air and throw you around like a ragdoll. you don’t seem to fear the possibility of that happening, even when being faced with a pissed off sukuna.

it’s truly intriguing and amusing. that’s why sukuna kept you around every day — as a form of entertainment, he called it. one thing led to the other and you eventually ended up as one of his concubines. the king of curses himself decided to grant you that promotion.

why? because not only does your fragile body, reserved and polite personality and innocence secretly fascinate him — it also makes him crave you. crave to shatter that naivety of yours. to take that small body of yours and make it feel what it means to be overpowered by a man twice your size.

sukuna does not regret his decision to make you his concubine. the first night you spent together was one of the best nights he had ever had. in all his many years of living. not a single woman had ever succeeded in blowing his mind when it came to sex.

it was usually boring and repetitive for the sorcerer. he felt nothing for those women he’s had in bed before — it was solely for the fact of satisfying himself. though, that changed on the day you had given him your virginity.

he remembers every detail; from your little noises of both pain and pleasure, your tight and untouched pussy that bled faintly when the fat tip of his lower cock pushed through, your nails that dug into his arms and back, your thighs that he held to your chest, his large hands that could easily wrap around the fat of them, your aching cunt that was left spasming around air as it tried to keep his sticky cum stored in place.

sukuna didn’t think your tears would affect him as much. when he took your virginity and you whimpered in pain — he did feel a twinge of guilt. it was strange; he hadn’t felt that emotion before. he had stopped and wiped your tears away. roughly whispered some words of encouragement too.

he had never done so before. never. he had never told anyone how ‘good’ they were for him. how he’d be ‘careful’ to not make it hurt any more. the king of curses recalls vividly how slow he started with you. slow sex. instead of rough like he’s used to.

sukuna wasn’t chasing after his own pleasure in that moment like he’d usually have. his main priority was to make sure the girl below him was comfortable enough to continue. you’re strange. the things you make him do, say and feel are strange. and yet. . .

it was an amazing night. the best. however sukuna was left behind with an insatiable hunger for you. more, more, more. he can’t grasp it yet; why he longs for you. for those feelings he’s suddenly capable of experiencing during intimate moments.

it’s why he calls for you every night. no other concubine was needed after you were made one. the king of curses couldn’t care less about those other women. they are boring to him.

unlike you. the one he’s sure that he won’t ever get bored of.

“you can take me so well now,” sukuna breathes out. one of his cocks was inches deep inside you, bulbous tip painfully hitting your cervix. over the past few weeks, your body had learnt to adjust to him, your pussy molded to fit the shape of his dick.

sukuna looks down at you and his cocks twitch with the urge to release already. his heavy balls clenching. your fucked out state is adorable. you seemed so.. vulnerable underneath the big man, “what a fragile little thing.”

it almost sounded condescending. degrading. especially with sukuna’s lips being curled up into a mean grin, his sharp canines showing. there was a puddle of your cum forming underneath your hips — staining the sheets that the poor servants have to clean by tomorrow morning.

“p-please, fngh, ‘s too big,” you sputter out. no matter how many times you took sukuna in, your smaller body couldn’t quite fully accommodate to the girth of him. every time he hits your deepest parts, you let out a painful whimper.

sukuna kisses his teeth, though slows his thrusts a bit. the wet sounds of his cum and yours getting pushed in and out of your cunt with each move was too addicting. what sukuna loves most is the view of the skin of your lower abdomen swelling and stretching each time he pushes forward.

“i thought you said you’d take both of my cocks today, yet it seems like you can’t even handle one,” the king of curses sighs whilst belittling you. one set of hands is holding you down by your hips, the other set is fondling your stiff nipples and circling your sensitive clit, “what a pity. a real pity.”

you almost choke on your spit as all your sensitive spots were being fondled. sukuna’s thick fingers leave no place untouched as he increases the tempo again—his cock plunging in and out of your stretched hole. the upper one was twitching, rubbing against your clit and lower abdomen.

sukuna harshly grabs your jaw and makes you look up at him after he hears you apologise for making empty promises. he seems satisfied with you staying so polite. even when he’s practically rearranging your guts. the way you talk through your soft sobs and cries is endearing. makes him grin wickedly.

“i don’t want to break my favourite little concubine yet, you see,” sukuna continues. he lets out a grunt of pleasure when your pussy clenches around his thick cock. no matter how many times he fucks you dumb, you still remain as tight as the first time.

he takes in a deep breath. he’s trying his best not to pound you into the mattress. he’d fold you in half and probably break you like the fragile thing you are. he could snap you like a twig if he wasn’t careful, “. . .but you’re making it very difficult for me.”

you respond by apologising again. oh, how cute it was to see you babble and make up excuses. sukuna grits his teeth, jaw clenching as he resists the urge to go harder on you. you’re already squirming and moaning loudly just because he’s fucking you hard and deep—bruising your cervix and forcing your walls to open up to him.

“‘m sorry, wanna take both.” you hiccup and sniffle. tears ran down your cheeks from overstimulation. it felt so good yet so painful to be taken by the person you admire most. you didn’t want to displease him, so you uttered those hopeless yet needy sentences again.

sukuna stops his movements when you weakly ask him to use both of his cocks on you. he scoffs, not knowing where you gained the confidence from. he pulls out of your dripping cunt, leaving a trail of cum connecting both your genitalia.

“‘wanna take both,’ she says,” sukuna mocks you under his breath. it’s getting worse; he’s nearing the point of no return. especially with your desperate whines that were like music to his ears, “you’ll break, woman.”

two of his hands move to stroke along his lengths, smearing the mixture of body fluids all over them. his eyes glare down at your small form—already fucked out, yet aching to continue. needing the full experience for once.

you always turn from a shy girl to a complete slut whenever he has you in bed. sukuna loves it.

“i want to try at the very least,” you mutter. it’s true that you’re exhausted. you’re catching your breath now that you got the chance, tired eyes glancing up at sukuna’s enormous stature between your legs, his defined muscles and the tattoos on them glistening under the faint light of the oil lamp.

it got your pussy throbbing and clamping down around air. you felt a bit light headed and your head lolls back against the pillow, eyes glazed over as you try to seem determined. but your body was tired.

“yeah? how. . . cute,” sukuna grins. he knows you can’t. not today at least. he doesn’t mind if you aren’t capable of taking him fully since you’ve already pleased him well enough for now. though, he still can’t help but tease you—make it seem like he’s going to give you what you want, “all right. don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

your eyes widen and your fingers curl around the silky bedsheets beneath you in anticipation. your heart is pounding in your chest as you watch sukuna pump his two cocks a bit faster, squeezing the base a bit, leaking some pre.

it’s all just for show.

“i’m not stopping. even if you scream.” the king of curses warns you with a dangerous glint in his eyes. you gulp at the terrifying aura sukuna was emitting. one of his tips teases your entrance whilst the other probes and circles around your anus.

he threatens you again, testing if you’ll back down, “last chance. i’m not pulling out once i’m in, do y’hear me?”

you keep being stubborn until the very last second. sukuna’s deep voice that shook you to your core was not enough to make you change your mind. you were so desperate to fulfill his every need and make sure that he was satisfied. it made you the perfect woman in his eyes.

the king of curses is completely amused. he decides to take it up a notch. he pushes his lower cock against the tight ring of muscles, pressing and nearly allowing the tip to move in. the sudden increase in pressure is torturous. you surely wouldn’t be able to withstand the entire thing.

“w-wait!” you squeal in surprise and pain. the sting you felt made you snap back into reality. it’s when you realised that maybe you needed more time and experience to take both of sukuna’s dicks. you squirm your hips away, “can’t. i can’t.. hurts too much.”

sukuna nearly rolls his eyes once you finally give in. he shakes his head with a sigh, feigning disapproval and annoyance. he pulls his entire body away from yours—a ominous shadow casted over his eyes. it makes you think that he’s pissed off at you; for being unable to please him.

you panic a little. even if you are sure sukuna wouldn’t ever hurt you. you know he favours you over the other concubines. you don’t want to lose that position.

“i’m sorry.” you apologise before the sorcerer could say anything. he lets out a sharp breath, rough hands back on your body, kneading your flesh gently yet firmly. his eyes take in the view of you trembling.

it’s unreal. you are half his size—completely vulnerable underneath him. he’d normally call people like you weak and useless. wouldn’t feel a thing for them. but your naked body below his is a sight he wishes to see every night.

it turns sukuna on so much. the fact that you are helpless and don’t complain when you’re struggling to take one of his cocks gets him going each time.

“tsk. what’d i tell you?” sukuna grumbles. he slaps his lower cock firmly against your clit. your body responds by closing your thighs together, though the king of curses pries them apart again, “stop overestimating yourself, brat.”

he isn’t actually mad. it was expected—of course you couldn’t take both at once. he didn’t even prep your other hole enough. plus you are clearly still exhausted from the previous rounds. sukuna just likes to. . . test and take advantage of your devotion to him. your obedience and desires to please him.

it’s fascinating to see you squirm and apologise in that whiny voice of yours. it makes him grin from ear to ear. and it keeps things fun.

before you could mutter excuses again, sukuna stops you by leaning in. just when you thought you’d finally get to kiss him, he goes to bite down on your bottom lip. a moan slips out of your mouth which only spurs him on to bite down harder.

you could feel the devilish smirk on sukuna against your lip. his wet tongue cleans up the tiny drop of blood that escaped the wound. he lets out a low hum in approval at the taste. delicious as always.

“now, how should i punish my little concubine for being unable to keep her word?” sukuna whispers in a serious tone. it sends shivers down your spine, his hot breath traveling from your jaw to your right ear. he slowly licks your earlobe, “what do you say? any ideas?”

the tension in the room was palpable. your heart was stammering in your throat from the proximity between the two of you. you gather the courage to answer as sukuna’s fingers curl around your neck, squeezing your throat as if forcing the answer out of you.

“i-i’ll do anything, sir.” you reply through a shaky breath. the king of curses pulls back after he’s got a response from you. your eyes meet his and that’s when you know that you’ve either greatly pleased him or have given him the chance to go all out on you.

it’s probably both.

“anything, you say?” sukuna repeats slowly. without a warning, he effortlessly flips you over on your stomach, a set of hands pulling your ass up by your hips whilst the other set holds your upper body down on the mattress.

a harsh grip on the back of your head results into you whimpering. your face was mushed into a pillow, almost leaving no place to breathe. your back is placed in the perfect arch with your plump ass facing up. it’s one of sukuna’s favourite positions to do with you — especially because it makes you seem smaller than you already are.

“heh. i’ll make you regret saying that.” sukuna chuckles. a low, evil and wicked chuckle. that’s enough to make you realise that he was not going easy on you. your submission had greatly impressed the king of curses and he's taking advantage of it. again.

what would come next could be a reward for that said submission. he’s going to fuck your brains out and make you forget about everything else except for his dick. a night you won’t ever forget as long as you live—that’s a possibility.

or perhaps you’re going to be crying and begging him to go easy on you. a punishment for not being able to keep your promise. that could also happen.

anyway, you’re about to find out which one it is.

[vatelixx]

On the concept of ‘want’,

Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader (written with early-ish seasons Spencer in mind)

SMUT!! (and fluff, and aftercare because im not a total hedonist), allusions to both Spencer and Reader being switches (but he’s mostly just down bad), autistic Spencer (the way it should be), mean reader (to everyone but him), reader has a very very high IQ when it comes to everything but a pretty genius— Spencer just wants that cookie so fucking bad.

Warnings: sub spencer (but also not entirely; he talks about human anatomy as he destroys her), maaaaaybe slight corruption kink (what? who wrote that there???), mentions of prior bullying and insecurity, first time (for Spencer, yess devirgin that hot nerd!!— do you think the BAU will get him a cake after?), brief mentions of past hypersexuality for reader, kinda rlly domestic. Some undertones of degradation but predominantly praise. Begging, crying (pussy so good he cried), etc etc

w.c: 5k (I feed)

a/n: Spencer’s first time getting fucked, my first time writing smut (we’re both going through it here). I’ve been watching too much Criminal Minds recently, so i’ve reverted back to my tumblr roots (im home i’m home). This is a new acc so like…. hi!!!

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Right person, right time. It’s a concept that Spencer Reid is more than aware of. Define luck, at surface level, it’s a made-up hypothesis, idealistic, fantastical. Conjured up to aid the desperate (or the delusional). It’s something he refused to humour, obstinate to the notion, well, that was until you came spitballing into his life, sharp features, sharper tongue. You could cut with your words alone, a weapon to the BAU, jagged and fast-thinking, and so entirely unattainable. Rorschach tests, and an endless sea of profilers, it doesn’t matter— he’s not sure anyone is ever capable of truly pinpointing you.

Rocky start— after you became a permanent member to the team, it took months to coerce you into dropping your guard. A year and 14 days, to be exact.

But, it was possible. Hardened words and blunt comments shifted into something more with time. A gravitational pull, perhaps, that led to evolution— you, softer with him, more tender than you’ve ever showcased before.

Maybe it was that night when he told you about highschool, about what they did to him, boys like him, who were too intellectual for their own good. Different, in every sense of the word. Bullying at such a young, impressionable age can have prominent effects, chronic stress inflicted on an underdeveloped brain, they tied him to goal posts, stripped him naked, endless torment that he still carries with him now. Maybe that’s why you lowered your defenses. Put down the sword.

And sure, he never expected anything, nor asked for anything. He was definite that he wouldn’t get to experience cliche-dating. Longing glances and anticipated moments. It’s not like he was ever the most appealing candidate, too nervous, too neurodivergent. It’s hard to grow out of the mentality that no, everyone isn’t making fun of you, not when it consumed the entirety of his adolescence. That you can walk into a room, and not be seen, targeted, as an outcast. He’s just different. But he’s also human, and the chemicals in his brain do make him want.

You apparently. Because, you looked at him softly once, and he was done. Ruined. Gone for good. Or, in Morgan’s personal opinion, whipped.

And illogically, you wanted him too. That wasn’t ever part of the equation.

But theres a pattern now— dates every weekend. Movies, cafes, museums, an endless onslaught of you. Because somehow, thanks to luck, you reciprocated. He’ll never understand why, you’re too beautiful (it’s a hazard), but he tries. He tries.

──────────────────

December. A haze of christmas markets and blanketing coldness. You kiss him outside and he thinks he might be dying. You make him burn cold. He’s a logical person, so obviously he’s aware that he’s only freezing because your hands are shoved in his pockets, a desperate bid to seek warmth, but regardless, it’s more than he ever expected.

He laughs against your lips, fingers gripping the front of your coat as he draws you backwards so that you’re resting against a wall. “Mm..” he hums, “You should kiss me more often.”

Everyone knows. The entire team is aware of this, an unspoken agreement that your lingering moments and aimless touching are not platonic in the slightest. You work with profilers, secrets are never quite effective. Everyone knows, but it’s taboo, something that needs to be left undisturbed. Do they expect you to break him? Does he? Maybe, maybe it would be worth it— to hurt for you, because it’s always been you. He’ll take anything, he’s not greedy. He’ll live off scraps if he has to, anything to satiate this want that burns solely for you.

“Actually.. you should just always be kissing me,” he suggests, tone soft, “Every day of the week. All the time. And—“ he laughs, “You should also stop stealing body warmth. It’s rude. Hypothermia usually occurs when body temperature dips to around 95F, oh oh but there are so many factors to consider—“

“Is this you trying to imply you’re cold?” you ask.

“Perhaps. Or maybe i’m implying you should be working harder to warm me up.”

You’ve grown soft, he thinks. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this level of affection. But its okay, you justify, mostly because it’s him. Spencer, and his pretty smile, and strange habits (sitting cross legged on tables, drinking coffee with excessive sugar, endless facts and a plethora of soft yearning glances at you when you’re interrogating— as if you’re not tearing an unsub to pieces). It’s terrifying, constant eggshells, because you can’t hurt him. Not like the others, distant fragments of your past.

You laugh in response to his comment, admiring the sight of him: flushed, with swollen lips and dilated eyes. He deserves to be like this, so thoroughly assured that despite all odds, you’re invested. All cards on the table. “You have a lot of requests, boy genius.”

He smiles boyishly. You’re hard lines, sure, a blade that can draw blood, but somehow, somehow, he’s always left unscathed. “Alright,” he answers, “You want requests? Here’s one, stay the night. Come over, stay over, i’ll cook breakfast and try not to burn it— and, and you can have the good side of the bed.”

“Spence,” you mutter, because of course there’s an underlying intention to ‘staying over’ and you're trying to be good here. To not let this fall into your past mistakes of sex and inevitable self-inflicted disgust. A cyclical cycle that clings to your skin. Everything is so new to him, the intimacy, the affection, and it’s nice being able to witness it— to see his reactions to innocuous touches, always disbelieving that he’s capable of this.

Fresh-eyes, so untainted to the sharpness of modern ‘love’.

You cup his face, god, under the dim shadows of the streetlight he’s beautiful. It’s a little alarming to be honest. More so disheartening really, because despite how much you remind him, he never believes you— obstinately refusing your compliments, as if you’d ever mock him. No, he’s different. He’s tender and disarming, and sometimes it feels unholy to touch him with calloused hands.

But, to Spencer, there is nothing unholy to this; the second you touch him, the entire universe crashes down into a singular moment.

“Just stay the night,” he reaffirms. It’s taken him over a month to get to this point, to be able to voice his wants, to comprehend his wants. Now, his thumb traces its way down the side of your face, tangible, real. “And tomorrow morning, there’ll be coffee and pancakes and—“ he laughs, “And there won’t be any regrets. I promise.”

You’re looking at him, wide-eyed and slightly disbelieving (because he’s somehow stumbled through the minefield of you without any consequences). He leans forward, his forehead resting against yours. “Don’t make me beg. I will beg.”

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To confirm, he makes you incautious, irrational, willing to blatantly disregard any sort of control. Of course you end up at his apartment; the moment he mentioned begging, you were already half-way down the street.

Spencer’s place is… well, it’s everything you’d expect of him. Scattered novels adorning the floor, a mess of untidy thoughts, neglected papers on science, endless open textbooks left half-abandoned for other pursuits. It’s so him, clean but discombobulated.

He wants to apologize, make excuses for the lack of order, he probably should. He doesn’t do that though. He only crosses the room, stopping when he’s standing right in front of you, just gazing down. He has no idea what’s to come— for once, there are no patterns, no statistics he can reference.

So, he reaches for you, fingers tugging at the edges of your jacket. “Arms. Up,” he instructs and god, it’s a stupid order, but you follow it without any protest. He folds it over the couch, abandoned. Putting it back on alludes to leaving, and he’s hopeless enough to never want you to leave.

His hands then gravitate back to you and he starts to tug aimlessly at the material of your shirt. It’s been raining, and the fabric is soaked. “Hm,” he hums, “Off. Take it off.”

You laugh at that. Straight to the point. You don’t follow his orders, because one was certainly enough, and you’ve never been the type to obey blindly. Instead, you grip his waist, drive him back towards the nearest surface. An end table, some books go clattering, light damage, they’ll survive. His response is a gasp, a hitch of the breath.

“I was promised the good side of the bed, breakfast, pancakes. But sex? Hm, did you invite me over just to get in my pants? I’m wounded, Reid.” you mutter, pressing a series of soft kisses along the curvature of his jaw.

“No! No,” he retorts, breathless, “I was going to get you some comfortable clothes to change into. Damp clothes breed bacteria. You made this dirty,” Adding, “And not in the way I was concerned about.” under his breath.

You roll your eyes, “Oh, here we go—“ sure, you have the experience he lacks, but you’ve been on your best behavior. Dirty? That’s an insult to the exhausting self-restraint you’ve upheld recently.

“Yes— i’m the dirty one here, clearly.” you scoff, “Just casually corrupting you,” You tug him away from the end-table because you don’t want him bruised in any way, shape or form (it’s actually distressing; when you’re working, you seem hellbent on making sure no one even thinks about laying a hand on him. Unsubs be damned.)

Ego-centric, completely independent, individualistic until he came along.

You push him back against the couch, watching as he stumbles, as he falls. For a minute he just lies there, looking up at you with hazy eyes— pupils dilated and lips parted on a half-pained gasp.

And it’s a sight to see, the brilliant prodigy, the young genius, his normally-composed features now twisted into something stricken. His hands tighten around the material of the couch and he lets out a sound that’s a cross between a whine and a groan.

“Oh—“ that’s just a clear-cut moan, “You can definitely definitely keep corrupting me, in fact I endorse it. Completely.”

“3 PHDS, 2 B.A’s and you’re currently asking me to corrupt you? I don’t know, Doctor Reid, that’s certainly very forward,” you say, moving to sit on his lap, aware that you really should entertain this spot more often, even if you’re at severe risk of deflating.

Deflating. God. When did it come to this?

He laughs, “You’re the only person in this entire world that makes me act without a single coherent thought,” IQ abolished. “So yeah,” he murmurs, fingers tracing mindless patterns across the exposed strip of skin above your waistline. “Defini-definitively corrupt me.”

It’s taken so much to get to this point. So much to unpack, to understand, from Spencer’s perspective. There’s a lifetime of bullying that he has to dismantle, and sometimes he still anticipates the punchline when you kiss him— the biting laughs, not entirely dissimilar to school, when someone would belittle him, fake being his friend just for entertainment value.

So, when you stumble into the bedroom, when you remove his shirt, he knows this is improvement. He’s fighting this internal battle, unsure on how he should act: coy or defiant. Both, really. He wants to cover himself up, to pretend like you don’t disarm him, to fight and fight until you make him bleed. Anything, he’ll take anything from you.

“You are so so pretty,” you mutter when he’s sprawled out across the bed. You’ve never been someone to resort to praise; sex had always been cold and clinical, something to relieve stress, to undermine the burden of work, and the endless weight of sanguinary. But now? If he is the eye of the storm, then you’ll happily commit to the chaos of this.

“Careful, you’ll make me inherit a disorder here.” he mutters. Narcism— he’s the least likely to ever develop such symptoms. “Or cry. I could cry, it’s a potential. Maybe break-down?”

“Or,” he adds, his hands tracing up towards your shoulder blades. “All of the above. The trifecta of issues. It’s very likely.”

He rolls over on top, you’re down to just your lingerie now, pretty lace contrasting against your skin. Removing your clothes had been a whole ordeal, he’s fairly certain he almost died; you’re the epitome of beautiful, and he’s not sure how he ended up with everything when he was so resolute, silently accepting, he would always obtain nothing.

“I want to kiss you, but I don’t know, I feel like my body has lost the ability to function at the moment.” he breathes out.

“You should definitely kiss me,” you confirm, posing it as a choice, one that he has any say over— when in reality, youre already tugging him closer. Lips meeting lips. It’s not sane how the world fades into a nebulous haze the moment your mouths connect; time remains constant, logistically, nothing has changed. But it’s just so much that for a moment you doubt the concept of existence, doubt everything but him.

Genius falling for genius. Only you could laugh when he traces molecules into your skin. Spelling out words with elements: Livermorium, Uranium. LV U, it might not be an exact replica of the three worded phrase, but it certainly gets the point across.

“Spence—“ you bite into his lip, tugging the soft tissue between your teeth.

He groans, whimpers, pulls you closer, eliminating every infinitesimal distance between, slotting his hips against yours. He draws away from your mouth, lips leaving a trail of kisses down your neck as he reaches for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours and pinning it against the bed. His free one is now wandering, slipping beneath your panties to touch.

“Do you know how much I studied about human anatomy after you first kissed me?”

“Weeks.” he answers when you respond with a muffled groan. Your hands are on his back now, tracing the journey of his spine. He’s in over his head, but there’s so much want, so much he wants to do but never thought he would be capable of. And oh, when he begins to draw circles against your clit, slow experimental halos, those soft touches of yours evolve into grasping, gripping. By the time he’s got a finger slotted inside, he’s fairly certain he’s being scratched. Nail indents and faint white lines, souvenirs.

“I know about every erogenous zone the human body possesses, every single one.” He says, because whilst he might lack in physical experience, he has enough intellect to memorize placement, biology. Plus, he’s a fast learner. His finger bends, and both of you moan.

“Spence— fuck, feels good.” you gasp, tangled hands clutching tighter, tighter again until your knuckles are white and you’re trembling.

The human body is something of a fascination to him; the way it reacts, how each nerve and ligament can respond to even the most tentative of touches. But you aren’t every human, you are you, and he has an insatiable desire to discover and catalog every single response your body gives.

He adds another finger, slowly, eyes fixed on your face, gauging the reaction. When he curls both digits, a sharp exhale is your response. “I’m convinced I’ve discovered new anatomy facts in the last few months, just because of you.”

Maybe it’s not fair that he’s so good. First times are supposed to be fumbling and awkward, a mess of hormones and inexperience. To say you haven’t been touched like this before is a severe understatement. The meaningless sex, the onslaught of bodies doesn’t measure up to him, the way he’s so focused on how you respond, on what your body enjoys— it would be endearing (and it is!), but you're currently too preoccupied to voice such a notion.

“Doing so good, holy shit—“ you mutter, blissed out beyond comprehension. You're making art on his back, only vaguely aware of the pain. Though when you realize you’ve scarred his skin, you're drawing away, moving to tangle your hand in his hair instead. But Spencer doesn’t even care, doesn’t even register the inflictions; he likes the physical marks you leave behind, a tangible remnant of all you do to him.

And sure, he’d laugh, usually, at your responses. But it’s hard to laugh, when his own ability to form any coherent sound has been completely destroyed. He’s a mess, his breathing shaky, and his brain is a constant buzz of fragmented musings consisting of you, you, you.

He draws his fingers out, earning a discernible groan, maybe a fuck you (which he does intend to do). But right now, he’s already slotting his face between your thighs, removing those soaked, ruined, panties of yours. He doesn’t have a single thing to compare it to. But he already knows this is his favorite place to be, and he’s fairly certain he’ll be spending most nights between your thighs, learning and memorizing every reaction and noise, each movement, and the ways to repeat them.

He runs his tongue along your clit, savoring just how wet you are, a mess that he can bury his face into. You’re looking down at him with something akin to shock now, and he can only laugh, blow air against your clit, then drag his tongue back over the sensitive bud, drawing it into his mouth to suck.

His movements are tentative at first, unpractised, but soon gaining confidence. He doesnt need to do this, you're aware— you could take him now. And yet, hes here, between your thighs for no reason other than want. Your reaction is visceral, because it’s always been about efficiency in the past, quick touches to get you there before the other person can derive their own pleasure from the act.

He’s not like that. God, hes not like that at all.

“Oh,” is all you can say, gripping his hair down to the root, instructing each movement until he gains incentive, finding repeat patterns that your body reacts to. Then, you can only arch and moan, noises filtered out into the air. He’s back to opening you up now, two deft fingers pressed inside, working diligently to tear you apart.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say to me? Oh?” he retorts.

“Shut up,” you huff, “Put that mouth of yours to work.”

“Mhm— I plan to. God, you’re so perfect.” he mutters, voice distorted, muffled. “That’s it—“ he fights the urge to explain exactly what’s occurring in your body every time his fingers abuse that spot. Instead, he keeps his mouth busy.

He’s certain he’s memorized most areas of your body from years of pining, and that’s what brings him an unrepentant sense of satisfaction. Because he was memorizing your body, you, long before he even got the chance to touch or taste you.

“Wanna stay here,” he says, and he’s being petulant now, because there’s something so good about being reduced to movements. To follow the pattern, to take care of your body, mindless to anything else but you. Pussy-drunk, to put it less eloquently.

“Shit,” you buck up against his mouth, watching as he buries his face entirely into you, as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, nose bumping bumping your clit, consuming his senses entirely.

“Use my face, yeah. ‘M all yours anyway.”

“Fuck, fuck fuck— Spence. Gonna cum—“

When you fall apart, inevitable, he doesn’t stop— not until you’re boneless and spent beneath him. Back arching, stars burning through closed eyes. Pretty constellations that have you blissed out beyond belief. The pleasure is white-hot, feverish in intensity.

And then he’s moving, shifting his body back over you. He’s all soft touches and languid kisses against your mouth, not bothering to break contact as he settles himself fully over you, the weight of his hips pressing into yours. He’s hard, dick pushing up against his boxers, his sexual libido had always been low until you came into his life. Now, his wants seem to fight for release constantly.

“My turn, I believe.” he grins, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Not that you have to, of course. It’s not an obligation, uh— more so a beg?”

“Of course it’s an obligation,” he goes to protest, to say you don’t owe him anything, so you sigh. “A thankyou, maybe?”

Fumbling hands, still shaky from pleasure, undo buttons. Unclasping his belt, removing loose fabric until he's bare before you. There’s something nervous to his gaze, something unspoken, lingering in the air. “Hey, hey. I’ve got you, yeah? You’re okay,” you promise, before your eyes shamelessly look down. He’s straining, pre-cum lingering at his tip, dick pressed up against his stomach now. “Fuck, okay— yeah. Good. Great even.” first time you've ever stumbled over a sentence in your life.

There’s so much to be concerned about. The fact he’s naked, that you could destroy everything with a few serrated words, years and years of rebuilding, reconstructing. But you don’t— and he can’t help but laugh nervously. “Glad to be up to your standards. I’d uh, hate to disappoint.”

“Always the over-achiever,” you respond, shifting away from him— there’s amusement to your expression when he groans, pitifully, when he rolls onto his back, draping an arm over his face.

Predictable. Condoms in his bedside table. At least he's prepared. You open the wrapper with your teeth, discarding it somewhere amongst the tangle of limbs and sheets, too hellbent on finding him again.

Oh, in this position, you have full, unrestricted view of his body. Endless planes of skin, begging to be marked, sentenced indefinitely to your touch. By the time you straddle his hips, hes a flushed mess beneath you. “I— um, you look really really pretty right now.” he stumbles, idiot.

His dilated eyes take you in. Every contour and curve, the way your hair hangs over your face, eyes up eyes up eyes up. He fails when you run your hand across his dick, thumb brushing against the tip. By the time you’ve slipped the condom over him, hes gone. Bucking and moaning, and so so much better than his hand could ever be.

He wants to be inside of you, but it’s hard to think right now, let alone vocalize the words. I want, he thinks, I want everything, with you.

Your name is on his tongue, muttered and repeated, a reverent prayer of sorts. He needs to gain back his control here, to return to equal footing.

“Yeah—“ he breathes out, “So much of an overachiever, considering I had you making all of those noises—“ his words falter, die out, when you sink down. When you take him. Wrapped around, tight. Warm heat that sets alight every nerve in his overstimulated body. He has half the mind to apologize for his comment because you’re about to ruin him, he knows.

“I thought you wanted me to corrupt you, hm?” you retort. The pace is slow, mostly for his own sanity. Though, the feel of him, the way he slots into you, warm skin pressed against warm skin is intoxicating, and it’s a battle to keep your composure. To not just fall apart under the weight of him.

“What’s that, pretty boy? Struggling? Because you were so egotistical a few seconds ago? Where’s all that ego gone? Straight between your legs, I think.”

A whimper. It’s a whimper, a pained thing ripped straight from his throat. He’s making indiscernible noises now, messy sounds pooling from his swollen lips. The praise, the strained undertones of degradation? It’s too much. But god does he love you for it, because that’s you through and through. Sharp, and brittle to everyone but him, he wants to look, he does, albeit he has to turn his head to the side, bury half of his face in a pillow because he’s gone. At this point, he can only take it.

“I— um, mhm. Yeah,” he slurs. He’s almost incoherent at this point; he’s been reduced to nothing, just a mass of skin, bone, and flesh at your disposal, to own and use and he can’t find it in himself to feel humiliated about it, not when it’s you.

“Can’t— um, I was wrong, you’re— oh god,” the sounds of your body hitting his, back arching as your pace picks up. “Oh, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry —baby, can’t, can’t take it. That’s��”

It’s a lot for his first time, that’s for certain.

“Yes, you you can. I know you can, Spence.” you mutter, interlocking your fingers, letting them hang near your hips. “You feel so good— so so fucking good. Look at you, so brain dead for me. Taking it all so well, love.”

Love?— oh he wants to be buried with that one. He’s a mindless disaster, impenetrably devoted to you alone.

He doesn’t even know how he’s saying words at this point, it’s as if his brain-to-mouth connection has been severed by your very presence itself. It’s not possible to form a coherent thought when you’re riding him like this, taking him so deep that he’s seeing stars. There’s tears pooling in his eyes, he looks pretty when he cries. Especially when it’s derived from pleasure, when he can let go of the burdens, everything he’s endured, when it’s just sensation. Nothing more, no more thoughts.

There’s safety here, an element of home, home home bliss, that has him keening. He wants to stay buried here forever, where nothing can ever hurt him again. When it’s just you, and your pretty words, and your exploitative power to destroy him. You never do, anyway. Even when you could, you restrain.

“Can’t, ’m gonna…, Please, please, don’t stop.” he whines, “Pleasepleaseplease— oh, can’t— I can’t.”

He grips you tight, rolls you over, mostly so he can feel you closer. The sight of you riding him was excruciating, but this is worse because now there’s no gap separating you. Now, he can bury his face into the crook of your neck, burn himself in the warmth of your touch.

“Spence..” you mutter.

“I know. I know—“ hes ruined, sloppy thrusts, whimpers catching against the stifling air. “Feels s’good.”

He doesn’t know what to do, how to breathe, so he just runs his thumb over your clit, watching your prominent reaction, watching as you gasp, moan— oh, and then you’re clenching around him, tightening the pleasure, and yesyesyes.

You’re too gone, moving still, and he can only cant his hips forwards, buck and squirm until he’s sobbing under the weight of your ministrations, releasing so hard that he can barely remember his name, no cognitive function, in the haze of his orgasm.

“There’s my boy— so pretty for me.” he can vaguely hear you saying, and if you’re talking him through it, he can only hear snippets of praise now anyway.

“Mhm— mhm. Yours, yeah.” he mumbles, body sinking against the sheets, a few little whimpers escaping his lips as you milk the rest of his pleasure from him.

Tangled limbs and sweat-stained skin. “You okay?” you ask in the aftermath.

“So okay,” he agrees, shifting closer, back pressed against your torso— sue him for being little spoon.

──────────────────

The next morning, you wake to an absence of Spencer. It’s unsettling, to say the least. So, you're quick to fumble over the buttons of one of his shirts, fabric creased, matching the tousled nature of your hair, disheveled, remnants of the ruination of last night.

For a moment, you consider that he might’ve left — but there he is, in the kitchen, attempting to make breakfast.

“Hey,” you mutter, leaning against the counter to watch.

Scratches adorn his back, indent marks from your nails, crescent reminders, stain his waist, and he’s content to wear them. If anything, he can’t wait to add to the budding collection.

Pancakes. The good side of the bed. Coffee. All of his promises from last night are being thoroughly met, even if he’s burning the food, and shit, he didn’t realize the coffee would be finished so soon. For all his calculations, he’s fairly off-center today.

And then, you come padding across his kitchen, embellished in only his shirt, unbuttoned near the top to expose your collarbone, and he’s fairly certain the last remainders of his IQ disappear.

“Hi! Hi,” he says, wide-eyed, “Um, making.. breakfast. You look, wow yeah.”

Breakfast lays forgotten.

[seokshinedk]

Today was a good day. Stopped by the local museum, had some yummy pasta at an Italian restaurant nearby, got matcha tiramisu, poked around a vintage shop for a bit, went home and saw that my package had arrived too. I’m glad I took the time to do something nice before break ends☺️☺️

[twstowo]

Hello!! Idk if ur doing requests but ahem cld i maybe request like a clingy yuu/reader with the second years and malleus?? like the reader is constantly following them around, and stuff,, like a small Floyd typa reader ^_^ i really love ur writing and i wld rlly love to see this dbsnsn if it's not a problem ofc!! :D

♡︎For context, Bestie Anon sent this ask on 20th of february and I’m only answering now, I would like to apologize for this, no like fr, ANON I will buy you cake if you want, LIKE FR what I did is criminal

⋆⋅☆Malleus:

Who gave you permission to be this adorable? Malleus loves you so much. He loves the attention you give him, the fact that you want to spend YOUR TIME WITH HIM AND THAT YOU CLINGE TO HIM?! He is in love. No, you don’t understand, he is IN LOVE. You make him feel so soft, and he will fight anyone for you. He wants nothing more than to spend the whole day with you and talk for hours and he isn’t ashamed to show it. He will literally teleport next to you as soon as he remotely starts missing you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Riddle:

He is flustered with your clinginess. You are always way too close for his own liking but he doesn’t have the guts to tell you anything you make his heart go BUM. The type of guy that when you two are alone he will also be clingy, not right away in the beginning of the relationship, but if he sees that you are clingy and that you are fine with being close to him he will start thinking that maybe it’s also fine fro him to open up and be like that with you too.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Ruggie:

He is also into it, he is the type of guy that if you hug him he will joke about you being so clingy but then he is the last person to let go of the hug, if you don’t let go of him he will just stay there in your arms for the rest of the day. Enjoys your company so much to the point he will feel weird if he doesn’t see you for a whole day. Show up at your dorm with food, that he buyed with Leona’s money, and spends the rest of the day cuddling with you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Azul:

I’m a firm believer that he is also really clingy BUT he has this image that he must maintain for his business. Politely pats your back if you too are in front of people and tells you to meet him back at the VIP room later, when he arrives to the VIP room he literally won’t leave you, he would stay the whole day attached to you if it wasn’t for his work. Floyd once took a picture of Azul laying on your lap while you patted his head on the VIP sofa, up to this day Floyd keeps on blackmailing Azul with it.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Jade:

He will just do that “Oya?” and laugh at your antics. Maybe he plays around with your hair while finding your clinginess endearing. I do see Jade as someone who tends to feel lonely since he doesn’t have many people to talk to or join him in his hobbies. So if you give him all that attention that he never had, he will probably want to return it by giving you his full attention whenever you speak about your interests. He is still a bit of a tease, but he can’t deny that he enjoys all the attention you give him.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Floyd:

If this guy is in a good mood, he will be so annoying, with annoying I mean you two are going to be clingy with each other, and if you want to leave him, because you need to go to class, you won’t. He won’t allow it, you aren’t going anywhere anymore. His arms are your new home, you don’t need anything else. Type of guy that will spot you and just hugs you and just lift you up and takes you whenever he feels like going at the moment, you two will now be going on a date.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Kalim:

You guys legit made Jamil throw up. The two of you are so clingy, when Kalim sees you he literally never lets go of you, as soon as he spots you you will be spending the rest of the day with him, and he keeps on hugging you, giving you little check kisses or hold your hand and YOU you just retrieve all of his affection tenfold.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Jamil:

Oh no. He isn’t found of public displays of affection as I have stated before, but once you two are behind closed doors he is fine with it, he doesn’t mind you dotting on him that much, the hugs and kisses and all the attention that you give him, quite the oposite he actually really craves all of that. He will have a hard time retrieving the affection through, but give him some time and he will slowly start open up about all of those sappy interactions.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

⋆⋅☆Silver:

I’m a firm believer that Silver is an extreme soft boy that loves affection and YOU CAN’T CHANGE MY MIND. Of course that his image of affection was different than yours, type of guy that does lots of acts of service, whatever you need, call him and he will be there, so when you start being clingy with him that open a door that he had never really though about and he loves it. He won’t be as clingy as you are but he will always try to retrive you affection even if in small gestures, you hug him? He gives you a small kiss on top of your head. You hold his hand? He kisses your wrist.

[ellecdc]

hii!! i rlly like your writing and was wondering if you could do a request ? remus (or wolfstar ) x reader where its like posthogwarts and she went to a diff wizarding school and the wizard thing was hush hush cuz she was a muggle, but then one day she like accidentally uses magic and they were like “ omg wait what” and like yeah. anyways pls feel free to ignore this its a very odd request LMAO. thank you so so much for taking the time to read this !!! (im sorry if this sounds weird i dk how to talk to ppl) ok bye 🫶

this was a very cute prompt! thank you so much for your request and your patience in my writing it!

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who they believe to be a muggle [1.8k words]

CW: fear of werewolf prejudice, fear of muggle born prejudice, I also included a line in French and you can find the translation at the bottom of the work

Sirius knew that they were, perhaps, being a little bit selfish by keeping such a big secret from you.

Statute of Secrecy be damned, they were well beyond the point in your relationship where they could have (and likely should have) told you that he and Remus were wizards (oh, and, while we’re at it, Remus turns into a beast once a month so there’s that, too). 

And while their friends all suspected it was Remus who was hesitant to tell you the truth on account of his lycanthropy, it had actually been Sirius who kept procrastinating the long overdue conversation.

But Sirius had to admit that he was very scared to tempt fate, because meeting you had been a complete fluke and he wasn’t willing to muck it up by scaring you off. How many times in one life did someone get the chance to meet a perfect angel?

Sirius had already met Remus which felt like nothing short of destiny, and then they met you, and that felt prophetic. And who was Sirius to mess with the prophecy? 

“You cannot chicken out tonight.” Remus muttered as Sirius rapped on your door, earning him an indignant scoff from his boyfriend. 

“I’ve never once chickened out in my entire life, thank you very much. That’s why I was sorted into Gryffindor.”

Remus merely snorted. “Sure, that’s why this is our seventh attempt at breaking the news, yeah?”

Sirius refused to look at Remus before banging (slightly louder) on your door once more before you finally opened up.

Gods you were so bloody beautiful; smiling like you couldn’t physically be any happier that your two boys were here, eyes excited and bright and so full of love and fuck sakes he couldn’t do it.

“Hey dove.” Remus greeted for the both of them, seeing as Sirius’ brain was short circuiting on account of your beauty and loveliness, pressing a kiss to your hairline and all but shoving Sirius past the threshold of your door. “It smells amazing, what are you making?”

Your smile seemed to grow impossibly brighter at the praise. “A vegetable bake! It’s sort of Mediterranean, and I’m making pasta to go with it.” You explained excitedly, and Sirius honestly felt like he was going to start overflowing with the amount of fondness he had for you.

“You going to say hello to our girl, Siri? Or are you just going to keep staring at her?” Remus taunted as he walked further into your flat to place the flowers he was carrying for you in a vase - the routine of bringing you bouquets every time they visited so practised that he knew where to find your vases. 

“Of course, gorgeous. Sorry for being rude.” He murmured as he pulled you into his chest and breathed you in. “You’ve got to stop answering the door looking so bloody beautiful; I completely forget myself.”

You giggled into his chest and then leaned on your tiptoes to press a chaste kiss to his lips that he - the selfish bastard - didn’t find nearly enough before he pulled you into a second deeper, lingering kiss. 

“It’s good to see you, Sirius.” 

Sirius sighed happily - because really, it was even better to see you - as he shuffled the two of you towards the kitchen Remus was now fussing in. 

“Beautiful!” You cheered as Remus positioned the bouquet in the middle of your kitchen island; and Sirius could see the mischief in Remus’ eyes even if you couldn’t.

“Just like you, dove.”

And, quite possibly one of their favourite sights, they watched you turn bashful as you opted to fuss with the arrangement instead of looking at either of them. 

“Listen, sweetheart, we were wondering if perhaps before we eat, we could chat with you about something?” Remus decided to rip the bandaid, and Sirius wanted to hex him for the way your body tensed and you looked at him with what appeared to be mild horror.

“Oh- uhm, okay, yeah, sure that’s… that’s fine.” You stuttered as you moved to the kitchen table to take a seat, both boys following obediently. 

Sirius watched as Remus moved last week's bouquet - which Sirius had secretly cast a stasis charm over so that they would last longer - out of the centre of the table and closer to Sirius so that they could both have a better view of you. 

“Is…everything okay?” You asked cautiously as you fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt. Sirius wanted to throw up. 

“Of course, dovey.” Remus assured you, though it was Sirius’ thigh he gave a comforting squeeze under the table. “We just know that we’ve been seeing each other for a while now, and we’ve grown to care about you quite a lot- you know that, right?”

Sirius watched as the divot between your brows only deepened as you nodded hesitantly. “So much, gorgeous; we care about you so much.” He insisted when it didn’t look like you truly believed them. 

“But we just, well, we haven’t been completely honest with you, is all. And now that we’re at this point in our relationship, we…we feel like we owe it to you to be honest.” Remus continued, clearly beginning to feel just as out of his depth as Sirius was. 

Your face fell completely blank, though Sirius could tell you were still tugging nervously at your shirt sleeve.

“Baby, I swear this isn’t bad, we- I rather think I’m in love with you, and-”

But as Sirius went to reach his hand over to rub at your arm in a way he hoped to be comforting, he ended up knocking over the vase stationed in front of him.

It didn’t break, thank Merlin, but it did topple over before Sirius could catch it and the water poured over the table.

Remus went to stand quickly to avoid being soaked, but no sooner had he pushed his chair away from the table was the vase floating towards you and the water completely vanished. 

Not looking at the boys in front of you, you righted the vase and repositioned the florals to your liking before looking up at Remus who was now standing and staring at you owlishly, and Sirius who was gaping at you from his seat.

“Did you just-” Sirius started, voice no more than a whisper, but was quickly cut off by the sound of a timer in the kitchen.

You waved your hand in that direction mindlessly before sinking back despondently in your chair and staring down at your lap, the timer silent.

“Y/N.” Remus rasped. “Did- was that…are you a witch?” 

You appeared to flinch as if you’d just realised what you’d done before you looked up; all colour seemingly draining from your face.

“What? I-” You started with a nervous chuckle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about? There’s no such thing as witches…”

But Sirius knew what he saw, the first could have been an accident - a trick of the mind - but the second act of magic was all the confirmation he needed.

Silently, Remus summoned the vase of flowers towards him before charming them to dance to imaginary music, plucking one from its stem and turning it gold before reaching across the table to put it behind your ear as you gaped at him. 

“You’re…a wizard?” You whispered in disbelief. 

At that, Sirius stood and spun, turning into Padfoot and panting excitedly at your feet as his tail whacked against the table leg with every wag.

A wet laugh escaped you before either boy realised you were wiping your eyes.

“Oh my gods?” 

“Awe, dovey.” Remus cooed as he moved over to Sirius’ chair so he could take your hands in his. “Don’t cry.”

“Is this what you guys were going to tell me?” You asked cautiously, hopefully. 

Padfoot melted back into Sirius, but he stayed kneeling at your feet as he rubbed soothing stripes up and down your calf. “Yes, baby; this was it.” He assured you. “I’m sorry we scared you.”

“So, that boarding school you went to in France?” Remus asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Beauxbatons.” You confirmed with a nod of your head. “And your boarding school in Scotland?”

“Hogwarts.” The two boys chorused, and you all let out a chuckle.

“It’s almost embarrassing that didn’t give it away right there.” You laughed breathlessly. 

“Since we’re, uh, being honest about stuff…” Remus continued, trailing off awkwardly as he shared a grimace with Sirius. “I’m also, well, I’m also a werewolf.” 

“Oh.” You breathed quietly. 

Sirius held his breath as he watched you consider this before you nodded your head decisively. 

“I’m muggleborn.” 

Sirius and Remus shared a quick look before Remus let out a disbelieving chuckle. “Is that- …what?”

“Baby, are you trading that information like we might think that’s a negative?” Sirius teased you lightly. 

“I suppose it depends on who you ask…” You whispered, and both boys softened. 

“Not us, dove.” Remus offered. “Good.” You smiled at him. “Then me too.”

“Is that really how you feel about it? About me?” Remus asked quietly. 

“No, it’s not how I feel about you.” You denied. “J'ai l'impression de tomber très amoureux de toi.” You admitted shyly, and Sirius couldn’t be held responsible for the mortifying cooing sound that resonated from the back of his throat. 

He grabbed your face roughly and started peppering you with kisses: “how”, a kiss, “did we”, a kiss, “manage to find”, another kiss, “the most brilliant and beautiful witch”, kiss kiss kiss, “in the whole world?” 

You were giggling and trying - not very hard, mind you - to pull away from Sirius’ ministrations when you stilled and let out a gasp.

“What?” Both boys paused.

“Supper!” You nearly shrieked as you went flying into the kitchen, muttering to yourself in French as you turned off the stove top and fussed with various pots and dishes. 

“I am so unbelievably in love with her.” Remus murmured, eyes glued to your form as you danced through the kitchen. 

Sirius scoffed as he leaned against his boyfriend with his arms crossed, feigning nonchalance. “I can’t believe you were so scared to tell her.”

Sirius didn’t need to look at Remus to know he was glaring at him; he could feel it.

But he also felt his heart grow three sizes when you turned to look at both of them with a beaming smile and a steaming dish in front of you, completely unphased that one of your boyfriends was a werewolf even though as a witch you knew exactly what that meant. And not only were you unphased, but you were still falling in love with them regardless.

Sirius had admittedly been very scared to tempt fate, because meeting you had been a complete fluke and he didn’t want to muck it up by scaring you off. Because really, how many times in one life did someone get the chance to meet a perfect angel?

If meeting Remus had been destiny, meeting you was prophetic; and who was Sirius to mess with the prophecy?

(translation: I feel like I’m very much falling in love with you).

[exopelagic]

I forgot how BRIGHT mornings are

[froggibus]

hiiiii :3 idk if ur taking reqs for dc right neow but a thought that tickles my brain rlly good is dick grayson/reader w a praise kink and dick exploits it n uses it to his advantage.... preferably afab reader but gn is fine :P

CTRL + H - Dick Grayson

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem! best friend! reader (uses fem pronouns + has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: when your best friend discovers porn in your browser history while fixing your computer, he decides to use it to his advantage

CW: friends to lovers, lots of praise, uses of ‘good/pretty/lovely girl’ dick calls you sweetheart/angel, dick is CORNY I’m sorry, mentions of porn/asmr porn, teasing, gaslighting (but not really), fingering, marking, unprotected sex, lots of sweat (its sexy i swear), dick fucks you over a desk, kinda rough sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, implied to be summer, i think thats it??

hey hi 👽 anon, thanks for the request! im sorry it took so long, it wasn't meant to be this long i swear, i just got caught up in the thought of Dick being all hot and sweaty and praising you while fucking you >~< and yeah this happened. really hope you like it (but if you don't, let me know and ill totally rewrite it!) lots of love yes i took an extra 30 mins to find nightwing #83 to take a picture of the comic book to make this banner lol

As if having Dick Grayson look at your search history wasn’t bad enough, now you have to live with the mortifying ordeal of him knowing you have a praise kink.  

When you had first invited him over to take a look at your malfunctioning computer, you’d thought nothing of it. You figured he would turn it on and off again, maybe update some drivers. So when he suddenly clicked into your browser and began scrolling through the long, long list of websites you’ve visited, you weren’t sure how to react. 

You noticed it at the same time as him, the glowing screen forcing you to freeze where you stand. There on the screen, from just last night, read: praise nsfw asmr. You swallow hard and lunge for the mouse to click out of your browser history, but breathe a sigh of relief when Dick does it first. 

There’s a beat of silence, your racing thoughts deafeningly loud as you try to come up with a reason to kick him out. Fanning your face as if that will help chase away the heat of the day, you swallow once more in an attempt to work some moisture back into your mouth. 

“F—find anything?” You say as casually as you can. 

It’s ridiculous how embarrassed you are, honestly. He’s just your friend, it’s just porn, it’s not like it’s the end of the world. Still, the rattling of your heart against your rib cage and his cruelly quiet silence make it feel like it is. 

He shakes his head. “Not so far, I should keep looking but—“ he flicks his eyes up your body, perfect blues tracing your every curve, “you seemed flustered.”

You raise your hands in denial all too quickly, your sweaty palms stretched out towards him. Dick raises an eyebrow, examining you in the way he does with strangers in coffee shops. 

“I just…don’t see how my search history is relevant, I guess. That’s all.”

He grabs your wrists, lowering your arms from the defensive position they’ve taken. Despite the familiarity of his touch, something feels off, different in a way you can’t explain. You shake the thought away. 

The world has not shifted on its axis because your best friend suddenly knows what kind of porn you’re into. 

His touch lingers on your wrist and he uses the leverage to gently pull you closer to where he sits at your desk. When he finally drops your wrist, a chill circles the space where his hand once was, refreshing your feverish skin.

“I just want to make sure you haven’t accidentally picked up a virus somewhere. If we can find one in your history, it’ll be much easier to get rid of it.”

The explanation only half seeps into the mush your brain has turned into under his gaze and you find yourself nodding without quite understanding. 

You were fooling yourself by inviting him here. While asking for his help was cheaper than hiring a professional, having him so close to you almost hurts—especially when lately you’ve been trying to force away the feelings you’ve harboured for him. 

“So,” Dick says again, “won’t you be a good girl and let me fix your computer for you?”

His words force you out of your thoughts, purely by short circuiting your brain. You blink at him with wide eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. 

“W—what did you say?”

“I just asked if I could fix your computer now.” 

You tilt your head in confusion. Did you mishear him, or did he call you ‘good girl’? He flashes you that signature smirk of his, his blue eyes suddenly dark with something you don’t recognize. 

Though everything on his face reads innocent, something not-so innocent lurks beneath the surface. Something that stares you down and screams ‘challenge me’. 

“Yeah.” You swallow. “I guess that’s fine.” You take a deep breath and try to steady the spinning in your head. 

Dick continues his work nonchalantly, hitting a few keys and opening your browser history once more. You turn your eyes away from the screen, instead focusing on the way your fingers grasp the desk until it hurts. 

You listen to him scroll for a while and try to pretend like he’s not looking through the most intimate part of your life. The idea of him seeing that part of you excites you as much as it nauseates you—a lethal combination. 

“You can relax.” Dick hums. 

You lift your head to look at him just to see him focused completely on the screen. You don’t dare glance at what he’s so focused on. 

“Why not sit down? This could take a while.” He says calmly. “I’m sure you’ll feel much better if you do.” 

You roll your shoulders. “I think I’ll just stand.”

There’s a shift in his eyes as if your words sparked something in them. He finally glances away from your screen, completely focusing on you with a newfound intensity. You want to shrink from his gaze, to run down the hall and hide in your broom closet, but you stay rooted in place. 

“It would help me a lot if you sit down. Don’t you want to be a good girl and help me out?” 

Holy fuck. “What did you just say?”

It feels like you’re waiting an eternity for him to speak again, your heart beating a mile a minute. He’s going to deny it, or make fun of you even more or worse—tell Wally about it. 

He pats his lap. “Come sit with me,” he purrs, “be a good girl, keep me company while I work.”

In your shock, you find yourself shuffling towards him and settling in his lap. Dick helps you adjust, tugging you back to his chest and keeping one arm around you while his other reaches for the mouse once more. 

He’s so close to you that you can feel the beating of his heart, his breath on your neck. You close your eyes and pray that he can’t feel the heartbeat that’s suddenly appeared between your legs.

You can’t remember a single time he’s been this close to you, a single time he’s touched you like this. The sudden proximity makes you dizzy, butterflies taking flight in your tummy. You clench the arm rests on either side in an attempt to keep your cool.

Dick shifts behind you, one of his thighs gently brushing your clit in a way that makes you squirm. “Don’t do that!” 

His hand slides from your waist to grip your thigh, a shiver running up your spine at the contact. “Don't do what? This?” He repeats the motion.

You squeak, lurching forward in an attempt to get away from the friction. You tilt too far and suddenly you’re falling head over heels towards the mat beneath your chair. Dick is quicker than that, wrapping one arm around your chest and another around your waist to tug you harshly back to him.

“Don’t do that,” you repeat breathlessly, “please.”

He rests his chin on your shoulder, soft strands of black hair tickling your cheek. “Why not? Use your words, angel.”

The nickname reignites something inside of you, rekindling a fire between your legs. You clench them together in the hopes it will do something to muffle the throbbing, but when you feel Dick smirk against the side of your neck, you know you’ve failed.

When you don’t answer him, he grins his knee between your legs once more, an innocent hum prompting you.

“You’re—fuck, you’re kneeing me in the cunt.”

Dick’s not sure if it’s from your brazen words or how entirely ridiculous this whole afternoon has been, but suddenly he’s laughing. A big, open mouthed, creasing at the corners of his eyes, laugh. 

His laugh surprises you enough to summon one of your own, sending you both into a fit. You shift on his lap to look at him, wrapping your arms around his neck to support yourself while the two of you laugh. It’s stupid and ridiculous and you’re not quite sure what you’re laughing at—just that you are. 

You’re laughing and laughing and suddenly his lips are on yours and his eyes are closed and—fuck, he’s kissing you. And then you’re not laughing anymore, your hands brushing up his neck and tangling in his hair. He’s not laughing anymore either, his hands gripping your waist like he expects you to leave at any moment.

You’re breathless when you pull away, refusing to open your eyes and face the reality in front of you. Because maybe the world didn’t shift on its axis when he learned your porn preferences, but it definitely has because he just kissed you.

He taps your cheek gently, using that terribly calm voice he does whenever you start spiralling. “Y/n.” He coos, “open your eyes, y/n.”

You bite your lip, shaking your head in refusal. You know as soon as you do, you’ll have to confront your feelings for him, and his for you, and all of that is just too much and god, when did it get so hot in here? 

You open your eyes one at a time, casting them down to where your thighs rest on his. Your hands come together, fingers twirling in your lap just to give you something to focus on other than the throbbing in your clit and the weight of Dick’s eyes on you.

He drags a finger down your overheating cheeks, tracing the outline of your jaw and tipping your head up to face him. His blue eyes are lined with something new, something darker—a need you’ve never seen before. 

“Look at me.” There’s a commanding tone to his voice before it softens, “c’mon, please?”

You finally force yourself to meet his eyes, the familiar ultramarine calming the sudden bite of your nerves. “Only cause you asked so nicely,” you say quietly. 

“Good girl,” he smiles and it feels like the sun pushing through rain clouds. He strokes your cheek gently, his thumb landing on your cupid's bow. 

You shiver beneath his touch despite the unbearable heat of the day. While his finger on your lips threatens to send you flying away, spiralling into space, his other does the opposite. His grip on your hip is tight, fingers digging in and sure to leave behind bruises. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks quietly. 

It’s only a small mercy that your nod doesn’t prompt another ‘good girl’ from him, or some other horribly delightful variation of it. However, when his lips brush yours and his hand slides to the base of your throat, all of the thoughts melt away. There’s no embarrassment, no overthinking, just raw emotion and the sensation of his skin on yours. 

You shift in his lap, sliding one of your thighs over his so you can straddle him. Dick offers a guiding hand while you slide forward, half steadying you, half tugging you closer. You shimmy up the length of his jeans until you’re as close as possible, your stomach pressing into his toned abs. 

A gasp leaves your throat when your clit brushes the very edge of the bulge in his jeans, the noise only edging him along. His teeth graze your bottom lip, both gentle and desperate, before his tongue slips into your mouth. 

The taste of him is intoxicating, consuming you until you’re grabbing his cheeks with both hands to pull him as close as possible. You whine when his cock grazes your clit again and Dick breaks the kiss to let out a breathy laugh against your lips. 

“Someone’s needy,” he teases, but his eyes are rimmed with dark and when he looks at you through his lashes, all you see is need. 

“Back at you.”

His palm sticks to your cheek with sweat when he goes to pull it away. “You’ve been so good for me today,” he hums, his other hand trailing up your thigh. “Let me take care of you, yeah?”

You mumble a breathy ‘please’ before his fingers are brushing your clit through your pants, the heat pooling in your panties near insatiable. You tighten your grip on him and bury your face in the tight black fabric of his t-shirt to muffle your heavy breathing.

While one hand rubs intense figure eights up the length of your pussy, his other hand is fiddling with the buttons of your pants. He sighs in triumph at the soft popping noise and then the fabric is pulling away from your skin, Dick somehow managing to tug them down with only one hand. 

You shift in his lap and prop yourself up on your knees to give him better access while he drags the fabric down your thighs. He takes advantage of your position to spin you to face your monitor once more, leaning back in the chair so you’re reclined against his muscled chest.

Warm breath fans the overheating skin of your neck just where your shirt meets your skin. Two calloused fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, skimming the warmth and slick of your cunt. Dick sucks in a breath, his pants suddenly too tight.

“You really are needy,” he swallows hard. “Lovely, needy girl.”

His words only serve as a catalyst to the intense need you feel in your core, amplifying your desire tenfold. The pad of his index finger brushes your clit and you’re suddenly a goner. Your eyes squeeze shut and you throw your head back, imagining the circles of Dick’s fingers in your mind.

He gently kisses at the neckline of your shirt, his lips soft against the sensitive skin. His tongue runs across the sensitive skin there in tandem with the moving of his hand, the duality sending shockwaves through you. You have to bite your lip to keep from crying out his name.

His wrist slides further into your underwear, fingers moving away from your swollen clit to run along the rim of your aching pussy. You suck in a breath, not moving an inch while you anticipate what’s to come.

Dick sucks a dark mark into your neck. “Ready f’me?” He mumbles into your skin.

You eagerly nod, trying to shift your hips into his fingers and shove them inside of you, but Dick moves away. You frown, lazily looking over your shoulder at him.

“You have to use your words.”

You almost roll your eyes but in your desperation, let your head hang in defeat and open your trembling mouth. “I-I’m ready Dick,” you say, quietly adding, “please.”

“Good girl.” 

Then he’s suddenly slipping a finger inside of you, travelling the length of your spongy walls to sit deep inside of you. A gasp rips through you, his name tumbling off your lips faster than you can catch it. He grips your hip to steady you, strong fingers bruising the exposed skin.

He curls his finger inside of you, prodding at that sweet fucking sensitive spot. He only stops when you whine, slipping his finger out for only a second before shoving it back in. He repeats the motion, starting a rhythm of thrusting in and out, his hand on your hip tapping along in tandem.

You squirm in his lap, that ball in the centre of your stomach turning white hot and growing until you can barely contain it. One of your hands squeezes his wrist—whether to stop or encourage him, you don’t know.

“Dick,” you whine, your voice taking on a raspy tone you hardly recognize.

He hums in response. “Does that feel good?”

“S-so good.”

He rewards you by slipping his other finger inside of you, the two of them working in unison. His fingers are so long and thick that they reach places inside you that you’ve never been able to touch on your own, stretching your walls just enough to make your eyes roll back.

The impending waves of your orgasm roll over you, that knot in your core so tight that you know it's bound to undo any second. You squeeze his wrist tighter in warning, your fingers pressing into his veins until you can feel the steady thrum of his blood pulsing. 

Dick slips his hand from your waist up your shirt, palming your tit. “Cum for me,” he murmurs. “You’ve earned it, sweetheart.”

His words walk you right over the edge, that knot finally coming undone and sending wave after wave of molten pleasure through you. Every muscle in your body contracts, your pussy squeezing his fingers so tightly it almost hurts. Both your hands clench around the wrist currently in your underwear. Holding him steady while you ride out your high on his fingers.

Dick holds you, keeping you stable while you gush and thrash wildly in his lap. He can feel your slick soak through the fabric of his jeans, his thighs warm with your juices, but he can’t bring himself to care. 

He trails kisses up your neck to your jaw, your cheeks and finally, tips your head back until he can plant soft, chaste kisses to your lips. His wrist aches from how hard you squeeze him but he doesn’t dare pull away until your muscles are relaxing and you let out your first, panting breath.

“Feel good?” He prompts.

You shake your head vigorously, all sweaty hair and hot skin and aching lungs. Dick almost wishes he had a camera because the sight of you laying in his lap all fucked out is one he would love to savor and put in his wallet.

He shifts behind you, only now remembering his aching cock and how badly it yearns to be free of the denim confining it. “Think you could do one more? For me? It would make me feel so, so good, sweetheart.”

You don’t think twice about his words, lazily trapping his lips in a sloppy needy kiss and mumbling ‘yes’ against him. In your fucked out state, you’re only half sure that you’re even speaking, the world around you fading. Dick slips his hand out of your panties, his palm soaked with your juices, and rests it on your thigh. 

“I need you to stand up for me,” he says, only half asking. 

He helps you up on shaky knees, your pants that had been resting just above your knees dropping the rest of the way to the floor. You brace yourself against the desk, half bent over while Dick slowly tugs down your panties. The minute the sticky, soaked fabric peels away from your pussy, you gasp.

Dick stares at the mess he’s made of you proudly, your folds glistening with the slick of your last orgasm. He burns the image into his mind while he fumbles with the zipper of his jeans, standing behind you while he drags them to the floor with his boxers. His cock springs free, thick and dripping with pre cum, begging for you.

He strokes it absentmindedly, all of his thoughts only on you and your trembling thighs, bent so perfectly over the desk waiting for him. He lines the head of his cock up with your entrance, rubbing it through your folds and prodding your clit before repeating the process over again.

Each shift of his cock, each rock of his hips, forces shivers of anticipation down your spine. Heavy breaths leave your lips, your arms barely managing to hold your weight over the desk when you dip your head down to stare at him through the crook of your arm.

“Such a pretty pussy. So wet and needy,” he groans when he finally lets his cock rest at your entrance. “So ready for my cock.”

You nod even though he’s mostly talking to himself. You let your arms sag against the desk and rest your face against your forearm, the sweaty skin sticking to your forehead. Dick thrusts forwards and lets the head of his cock push inside of you.

Moans leave him the second he dips into your heat, the tip of his cock stretching you in a way that has both of your eyes rolling back. His fingers resume their earlier position on your hip, digging in so hard it almost hurts. 

He stills once his tip is nestled in your walls, listening to the whiny breaths you let out while you adjust to his size. Your clench your hands into fists, slightly shifting from left to right to help him fit better. He’s big, bigger than you expected, but the way he molds your walls to his cock is almost enough to have you cum right then and there.

Dick is so distracted by the sight of his cock dipped inside of you that he doesn’t remember to move. It’s only when you let out a needy whine and shuffle your hips backwards that he realizes you’ve been waiting so patiently for him.

He snaps his hips against yours, the head of his cock barreling so deep inside of you so quickly that it almost hurts. “Sorry, pretty girl,” he pants, “didn’t mean to make you wait.”

You try to tell him that it’s okay but you’re silenced with another hard thrust. You cry out his name into your arm, your teeth grazing at your skin in your attempt to be quiet. Dick grabs the other side of your waist, using his hands to push and pull you as he pleases.

You fall further against the desk, your body lazily resting against it while Dick’s hips snap into yours repeatedly. The room is filled with the sound of skin on skin, a chorus of your combined moans filling the empty space between thrusts. Each shift of his hips, each prod of his cock, only spurs you further along.

You squeeze your eyes shut, completely focused on his cock battering its way through your walls. You’re only vaguely aware of Dick talking to you, his praise sounding incoherent beneath the rush of blood to your ears. Your pussy flutters around him, his cock scraping your cervix with every thrust.

He thrusts particularly hard into you, his cock jamming hard into the very edge of your walls, forcing a loud cry from you. It aches as much as it pleases, and without thinking, you’re suddenly crawling forward across your desk. Dick tightens his grip on you before you can get very far, tugging you back hard against him and slamming your pussy down on his cock.

You nearly squeal from the pleasure, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. That familiar heat builds inside of you once more, spilling over more and more with each intense thrust.

“You’re taking me so well,” he coos. “So tight—god, it’s like your pussy was made for me. Fuck.”

His lewd words add to that growing knot inside of you and suddenly you’re coming undone in his arms. Everything is too hot, too much, too loud. Tears spill from your eyes and you’re barely aware of the half sobs, half moans you let out through your orgasm.

“That’s right, let it all out. Good girl, cumming around my cock like that.”

Dick holds you steady the whole time you cum, thrusts growing sloppy as your pussy sucks him in and tries to keep him inside of you forever. He’s almost as breathless as you while he watches you cum and the way your pussy seizes around him is enough to have him tumbling over the edge after you.

He wraps both arms around your waist, pulling your hips flush to his, before he lets the both of you fall back into the chair behind him. Your new position forces his cock deeper inside of you—as deep as it can go—and then he’s cumming inside of you.

You can barely feel the hot ropes of cum he spills inside of you while you come down from your own high. Your thighs shake where they rest over his and you’re grateful for him holding you. 

Dick lets his forehead rest in the crook of your neck, his sweaty hair wetting your t-shirt. Even after he’s done cumming, he holds you tightly against him, the two of you panting in sync.

It’s nearly five minutes later when you can finally bring yourself to speak, your hoarse voice evidence of the pounding you’ve just taken. “I take it you saw my browsing history?” are the first words out of your mouth.

Dick laughs, his voice gravelly and deep and sexy. “Yeah,” he says, kissing your cheek. “I did.”

You awkwardly turn in his lap, twitching at the way it adjusts his half-hard cock inside of you. You look up at his eyes, the blue finally starting to seep back in through the dark. He cups your face, his hand sweaty, and pulls you in for another kiss.

When you pull away, you can’t help but ask, “so, what now?”

“First, I think I should show you how to use Incognito Mode.”

masterlist | dc masterlist

if you enjoy content like this, interactions go a long way! i appreciate every like, comment & reblog i get ^^

[zriasstuff]

Slytherin boys x reader (kinky shit vol.2)

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, orgasm denial kink (?), not proof read, long lost trashy & horny draft from my wattpad era (a moment of silence for that), cringe, enjoy ?

(not that anyone rlly cares, but i thought I’d at least pull this out since i haven’t posted actual writing in 1,5 weeks, vol.1 in case you’re curious)

Mattheo Riddle:

Mattheo was incredibly skilled with his mouth, knowing just where to flick his tongue and how hard to suck on your clit to make you melt. Shaking and squirming, you’d grab onto his curly hair, and he would hold your thighs over his shoulders and bury his face deep within your sweet cunt. Always licking up every drip coming from your precious cunt and sucking his fingers clean after stretching you out.

Eventually he figured that he could make you even needier by removing himself for a few seconds. In response you would desperately pull his head closer to your cunt and whine him “don’t you dare fucking stop now”, but he’d just tease your entrance by slowly licking stripes, so you wouldn’t be able to reach your climax.

It was torture, yet you have to admit he made it worth it. “Please Matty keep going”, you’d plea, “plea- please just pleasee”, you’d just repeat that as often as you could, but he enjoyed seeing you on edge.

Tom Riddle:

It’s his favorite form of punishing you for when you act bratty towards him, or when he’s in an angry mood in general, which is quite frequently. His practice of orgasm denial involves painstakingly long teasing until your cunt is all worn out and until you basically can’t think properly anymore. All your thoughts just revolve around one thing, riding out your orgasm completely without feeling as if something was being ripped away from you instead. Tom always fucks you first, pulling out just when you’re about to cum. Instead he releases himself all over your thighs, and leaves you to your own devices. The more needy you become, the longer he’ll torture you to see your breaking point. He has a dildo his size, which he’ll fuck you with, always pulling out just when you’re about to cum. It was an endless circle, even bringing out tears in you because it’s too unbearable and you just desperately want to experience that intensive orgasm. Usually he doesn’t let you have it though. Because of that you become unbelievably horny during the next few days, wanting Tom to use you and fuck you in any sort of way, but of course he’d rather watch you squirm and whine under him. “Should’ve thought twice before being a brat”/“Only good girls derserve to cum”/“You look so pathetic, begging for my cock”

Theodore Nott:

Instead of the popular silent treatment you gave to Theo sometimes when you were mad, you also enjoyed seeing him all fidgety and out of control. “Please don’t do this”, he’d beg, but it would all be in vain. Once you decided to bounce up and down on his swollen cock, he couldn’t keep it together anymore. You didn’t allow him to grab your tits, nor to cum. Once you rode his cock long enough to get you close, you got off of him and fingered yourself in front of him until you made a mess of the sheets. His cock would just leak precum from watching you get off, but he was gonna try to not disobey you. He wasn’t allowed to cum until you gave him explicit permission. After you rode him, he was most likely a swearing mess, desperate to touch his own cock and replicate what you do to him. “That’s what you get for making me mad”, you’d tell him and he’d apologize about a thousand times. Sometimes, out of pity, you then satisfy him by allowing him to touch himself, but other times he wouldn’t be so lucky and had to wait until the next day possibly. “I swear I’ll never do it again”, he whines or “Please I’ll do anything”

Blaise Zabini:

He knows that you enjoy your orgasms way more when they’ve been delayed because then they’re just so much more intensive that way. So, when you do it, he obviously wants to make you feel good, even if that means making you feel incredibly bad, even if it’s in a good way, for a moment. His cock was big by all means, it stretched you out perfectly and fit you just right. So after he comes inside you, he makes you cockwarm him instead of pulling out completely. This way he’ll watch you struggle to not roll your hips because if you did you’d try to get him to hit your g-spot. Then, all of a sudden, he’d grab your waist, make you straddle him, and control your body movements with his hands on your waist. Blaise will pull down, and thrust into you from under you. You can’t help but let out a series of cries because Blaise pounded so deep into you that you were sure you’re insides would never recover. Although he’s lying down, he’s still the one in control, so any pleasure you get is decided by him. “Not yet babe”/“Hold on a little longer ok” As you finally get to have your orgasm, it’s the most intense yet satisfying feeling in the world.

Enzo Berkshire:

Broken was the only word to describe Enzo when he was suffering from not being able to cum due to having a cock ring on. You used it for punishing him sometimes, for unintentionally flirting with other girls, but also just for fun and to spice up your bedroom activities. It vibrated his inflated cock, but also restricted it from shooting out his sweet release. The entire room would be filled with Enzo’s variations of noises, begging and whines. “How much longer”, he keeps asking while making filthy sounds and “I can’t keep it in anymore please” he’d always plea. Enzo would also always come close to tears, though he definitely enjoyed the sinful mix of pleasure and pain too. There were also several intensity settings on the useful cock ring and any time he’d swear, you put it higher. He was entirely under your control, and anything he did would result in his cock just suffering longer from the prolonged torture. You watched him squirm in his bed, completely naked, and even humping the bed at times to get some sort of friction, but that never ended well as you would set the vibrations even higher. His cock was so close to coming, yet only measly drops of precum came out. It was truly a sight.

Draco Malfoy:

Combined with public factors, orgasm denial is your favorite way of watching your boyfriend struggle to keep it together. Otherwise everyone would find out what an obedient boy he was for you, totally unlike the usual bad boy persona he puts on. When all your friends hang out around the common room couch, near the fireplace, a blanket always covers you two. It’s normal, since everyone shares a blanket with either a friend or partner. The twist comes when you slyly slide your hands all the way down to his crotch and rub him through his pyjama pants first. Draco always inhales sharply, knowing he’ll have to be on his best behavior. He shifts all the time, trying to secretly hump himself on the palm of your hand, acting like a stupid fuck toy. So, to tell him to cut it out, you lightly squeeze his length, sending him a warning sign. He should remember that you were the one in control. When you decide he deserves it, you start massaging his cock, pumping it ever so slowly and circling your thumb over his crown. As soon as you hear the grunts, signaling that he can’t keep it in any longer, you slide your hands out of his pants again and act as you were. Draco’s own pleasure had to wait until you were in private, until then he’d quietly whine “Please let me cum, pleasee”/“I swear I’ll do anything you want”

[hhmnya]

7:13PMㅤ✶ㅤ lee heeseung x femreader

you hate scary movies, loathe them even. hyeju, on the other hand, was obssessed them. so obsessed that she practically dragged you out of the comfort of your shared apartment to the movie theatre because they were going to be having a 'horror movie night'.

why she was so obsessed and why anyone would willingly go to an event like that? you have zero clue.

you couldn't see at all what made horror movies so great that they’re the only genre currently being massed produced within the entertainment realm. surely it wasn’t because the gross amount of gore, the heartstopping jumpscares, or insane— unrealistic storylines.

maybe they just found the actors attractive.

that’s what you chose to focus on, at least. the protaganist is a fairly decent looking guy, almost enough to distract you from the creepy ambience that was making you feel like you were about to throw up from anxiety.

keyword: almost, because as soon as the music spikes and something pops up on screen— you don’t look long enough to see, your eyes immediately squeezing shut— your hand shoots out to grab onto something.

you inhale deeply, trying to steady your breath, hand gripping onto hyeju's. as your heart rate returns to it's normal rate, you loosen your hold on . . . hyeju’s hand?

um . . . no.

what you’re holding does not feel hyeju’s hand whatsoever. hers is much smaller and definitely not as rough as whoever's hand that you’re currently holding is.

you open your eyes and glance to your right, where hyeju is definitely not sitting. instead a guy is there— a very attractive guy, at that— looking down at your hand in his.

eyes widening, you quickly pull away and let out a mumbled apology.

you can't help but internally groan and sink down in your seat, imagining yourself falling into a hole six feet deep. you can’t believe you just embarrassed yourself in front of someone who looked like they could be an idol. first you’re forced to watch an awful movie and now this?

you are not having a good day and you swear it’s going to get worse when you hear him let out a quiet laugh.

he’s for sure laughing at you and he’s going to make fun of you with his friends after the movie is over and you are never ever going to be able to step outside again. at least some good will come out of this— hyeju will never be able to force you out to another event like this one.

except it doesn’t get worse.

instead, he leans closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “if you want you can hold my hand again whenever you get scared. i don’t mind,”

you blink, opening and closing your mouth as you try to think of a reply. however, before you can think of something that’s not along the lines of ‘let’s get married’ (you're a weak woman, what can you say?), something else jumps out onto the screen, surprising you for the second time.

unconsciously, you take him up on his offer, your hand finding his once more. to which he responds by lacing your fingers together, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"my name's heeseung, by the way," you can feel his smile as he whispers, "figured you should know my name if you wanna keep holding hands,"

sinking down even further into your seat, you feel your face heating up to a degree that could probably rival the sun's.

note. hi i found this in my drafts and since i have rlly bad writers block here u go!!!! srry for the lazy layout LOL im planning on remaking my current one but i cant be bothered to rn oops

[pupyuj]

dubcon pervy! g!p gym trainer yujin who touches you on parts she’s not supposed to?🤤 you’d be bent over the equipment and she’d press her hard cock against you with her fingers ghosting right above your breasts but that’s ok cuz she’s only correcting your form, right? right??!? it goes on for many sessions but you were a bit dumb to realize her advances :( so one day as she instructs you to do a stretcg that bends you over and gives her a delicious view of your ass, she loses all self-control, pushes your head against the yoga mat, and fucks you from behind hard and nasty like a rabid dog😫she’s been restraining herself for soooo long! and poor you couldn’t do anything but take her big cock cuz she was too strong (grabbing both of your wrists behind your back) :( both of you go on fucking in different positions, on every gym equipment, nonstop. and did i mention, you were a dumb virgin :( and it only turned yujin on even more when you were crying and begging her to stop bc you were unfamiliar with this (extremely good) sensation stirring up in your stomach :((( poor reader has never even touched herself before :( and all yujin wanted to do was to corrupt you😵‍💫

-🍒

this ask has been rotting in my drafts for months omg apologies 🍒 anon 😭😭💔 as always one can never go wrong with pervy yuj 🤓

[cw: dubcon.]

totally into the idea of this yujinnie here being someone you’ve actually known beforehand like maybe she’s an older sibling’s friend or smth so you feel super comfortable around her and is thus blind to anything weird she does to you 😵‍💫 bcs as far as you know that’s just who yujin is: affectionate and naturally touchy-feely with people that she knows! ofc that made it especially easy for her to get away with doing pervy things such as very very sexual comments about your body that she passed off as either jokes or ‘really specific compliments’, briefly brushing her hands against your boobs, touching your ass, etc. 🫣 and the touching doesn’t even stop outside of your one-on-one meetings! seriously, how could you be so stupid to ignore how her hand always rested so suspiciously low whenever she had an arm wrapped around your waist… she was almost disappointed that it was all too easy but you were still so pretty that she needed to fuck you 😳😳

she was hoping to slowly push you into wanting her back just so nobody can tell her shit about abusing her ‘position’ over you as this mentor figure, but one day you just showed up in a particularly skimpy outfit and that was the last straw for her! all morals out the window 😭 and it didn’t help that yujin hadn’t gotten off for days too.. it was perfect! yujinnie watching with bated breath while you were doing your cute little warm-up stretches, she didn’t care to hide her hard-on anymore because why would she?? you’ll get to see her dick in a matter of minutes anyway 🥰 but as morbidly horny yujin was, she doesn’t get to it right away! she had some manners! 😤 she helps you out with a few workouts as per usual, shares a few jokes and conversations here and there, she even showed you some pictures of her little puppy just to get you nice and comfortable… then you were finally laying on your back on a yoga mat while yujin towered above you, ‘helping’ you with some sit-ups although that wasn’t something that was in your routine before…

ah, yujinnie taking advantage of your exhaustion.. your head seemed to have taken you elsewhere bcs you rlly didn’t notice how she had fit herself in between your legs, her hard cock poking at your clothed cunt, her hands keeping your legs apart without too much pressure so you wouldn’t notice… that was until you blinked and set your eyes on yujin again.. “uhm.. unnie?” oh you were so stupid! really!? that’s all you’ll say about this extremely awkward and frankly, humiliating situation??! yujin couldn’t believe her ears, and her eyes! you didn’t make a single move to scuttle away like she expected you to!

it takes yujin a thrust of her hips for your poor instincts to finally kick in and you attempted to push her off.. only to have your wrists pinned above your head 😣 and before you knew it, your pants have been pulled down and you were taking yujin’s thick cock very painfully slowly.. she doesn’t bother to use her other hand to cover up your mouth, she needed to hear your voice.. hear how you whined and winced in pain but would moan her name at every thrust… and she likes how you got yourself to be free from her hold just to grab at her shirt and claw at her arms.. yk what she liked even more?? how you begged in tears for her to ‘wait’ and ‘slow down’ but didn’t make any attempts to push her away like before.. and ofc yujin doesn’t miss the way you’ve practically wrapped your legs around her waist—you wanted this!

if you ask me she was wayyy too ecstatic to help you with some other kind of workout 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ yujinnie practically manhandles you the entire time you fucked in that room… grabbing your waist tightly to the point she made marks on your skin with her nails then she’d aggressively push you around, making sure you’re in the perfect position to take her cock smoothly… face down, ass up, both of your hands gripping the mat for dear life while she pounds your holes… even making you gag and spit all over her fingers just to massage your clit in a way that makes you bite your lip until it bleeds… everything was painful, but it was also all just too good that you sat there and took it like the good girl yujin kept muttering that you were 😍

yujin’s big on praises for you bcs she always made sure to encourage you in your sessions but she was especially fond of you while she fucked your ass, for some reason! 🥰 so many “good girl”s and “good job”s… her praises only wanted you to be better for her ☹️☹️ so ofc you parted your own ass so she could go all out… literally thrusting into you like she will never fuck anyone ever again, biting your shoulder and drooling all over it like a dog in heat… you have never felt more accomplished in your life until yujin came inside you.. filling you up while you simultaneously squirted on her dick (which she liked very much btw!!) with a sweet moan that will surely be stuck in yujin’s head for daysss to come 😵‍💫